


man is least himself when he talks in his own person

by floatingcastle



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Autumn Troupe (A3!) - Freeform, Biting, Body Worship, First Time, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Play: The Roman Episode (A3!), Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Pre-Relationship, Roleplay, Top!Hyoudou Juuza, banri realizes hes a bottom, the rest of akigumi (minus azami) also make appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28393812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingcastle/pseuds/floatingcastle
Summary: Taichi asks his troupe for advice about sex. This snowballs Juza and Banri's relationship tension until they finally fuck.
Relationships: Hyoudou Juuza/Settsu Banri
Comments: 36
Kudos: 146





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1: happy holidays! i hope you enjoy reading this!  
> 2: i'm so sorry this fic completely got out of my hands and became much bigger than i realized it would be LMAO. i'm posting some of it now so you know i'm workin on it  
> 3: sorry for writing like four thousand words of slice of life and then not even getting to the sex in chapter one i promise it happens in the second part

I. Set Dressing

Banri is having a boring morning. 

Days like this have been far and few in between ever since he joined Mankai Company, but Spring and Winter are out on another acting retreat, and Kazunari took all of Summer out for some day trip at an arts festival he’s been raving about for weeks—something about “historical hotties”—so the dorms are quiet, and to Banri, quiet is boring. He’s gotten too used to the default level of chatter and nonsense that goes on in the background. 

The kitchen, when he enters, is a normal affair. Omi cooking something up for dinner, and Taichi hovering by his side to fanboy over his culinary skills. Any other day and there’d still be a whole ‘nother gang of people sitting in the center of the room playing mahjong or some group of idiots yelling through a new episode of Tenma’s dramas. 

Without it, the air is filled only by the tantalizing scent of whatever Omi’s got in the oven.

“‘Sup,” Banri says as he walks in. The afternoon sun is filtering in through the windows and he has to defend himself against the glare with one hand parallel to his forehead, squinting. 

“Morning, Ban-chan!!” 

“Good morning. Is Juza-kun not with you?” 

Banri’s expression shifts from pleasant to a particular shade of annoyance. His “what the hell, I’m not Hyodo’s manager and I don’t bring him everywhere with me on a leash, why should I know where he is?” face. 

Omi chuckles when he sees it. “I guess not, then. I was just hoping to get his opinion on some new dessert recipes I’m learning.”

Banri leans his elbows on the kitchen counter beside Omi and Taichi. Since Hyodo was brought up, there’s predictably a sharp comment on the tip of his tongue. 

“My feedback’s gonna work for you better than his broken tongue. His body’s like ninety-nine percent made’a sugar at this point. Really, I’d be doin’ him a favor by takin’ away the chance for another round of horrible, unhealthy snackage. Lay it on me.” 

“It’s thoughtful of you to be concerned for his health,” Omi says. 

“I’m not fuckin’ concerned about his health, I’m concerned about his shitty low standards. The guy’ll eat anything! You know that! And I’m not sayin’ that your cooking could ever be shit, Omi, but that bastard would look at a liter of whipped cream an’ call it a delicacy. So his feedback’s worthless and wouldn’t help you improve.” 

“Juza-kun really does love sweet things.” Omi’s voice is irritatingly fond. “I think you’re underestimating him, though. Having a wide palate doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the differences between treats.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’ll go get my practice batch of Mont Blanc for you to try. There’s enough to go around.” 

Omi, ever the master in conflict resolution. Banri resists the urge to roll his eyes again, but he’s not actually that irritated. That carrot part of the carrot-and-stick duo that he and Sakyo make up is an integral part of why Autumn Troupe never explodes despite all their bickering. 

As Omi steps away, he notices that Taichi’s staring at him like a puppy drooling over fancy dog treats. He can practically see a tail wagging behind the guy.

“What? I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“N-no, it’s just… You’re so cool, Ban-chan!! Even when you wake up late and have messy hair, how do you manage to make it look so handsome and dashing?”

“I’m really not doin’ anything special here, man. Guess it’s my natural good looks workin’ in my favor.” He clicks his tongue and smirks under the praise.

Footsteps plod down the hallway, growing louder and louder, before a low, gruff voice cuts through their conversation.

“What good looks?”

Banri’s stomach curdles as the sound of it washes over his whole body. The goosebumps rising on the back of his neck are from disgust, of course, ‘cause who the hell would be into Hyodo’s devilish tones? 

Everything about Hyodo adds up to this picture of a serial killer in the making. His voice, his glare, his deep-set resting bitch face, the way he talks like some no-good delinquent ruffian asshole, not to mention the fact that he towers over most people even when he tries to look smaller by ruining his posture. He could at least be proud of those two centimeters he’s got on Banri, but nooo, instead he walks arounds like he’s afraid of his own size. S’not like Hyodo’s the biggest giant in Mankai, anyway, so where does he get off acting like the rest of them are so fragile that they’ll break if he uses up too much space?

If the guy were more proud, Banri would still be pissed, but at least it’d be a fair competition. There’s no point in beating Hyodo if he’s holding himself back. 

‘Cause when Hyodo doesn’t hold himself back, Banri can feel the fire rising up in his ribcage like he’s been teleported right back to that night lying in the dirt, limbs too heavy to move, with Hyodo having beat his ass so thoroughly he’d end up feeling sore for weeks. Just remembering it makes him dizzy with desire for an altercation between the pair of them. 

...Anyway. That’s not relevant right now; this is just breakfast.

Banri straightens his back and swivels around to face Hyodo, and he’s unlucky enough to have a moment to take in the stupid, drowsy look on his face. Eyebrows all scrunched together—he can already hear a familiar Azami lecture in his head about wrinkles—and his chin drooping in a sleepy, even pattern like Hyodo’s going to pass out in the living room à la Tsuzuru after scriptwriting week. 

Banri scoffs, “It’s fucking twelve in the afternoon, did you really just wake up?”

“Like you’ve got any room to talk. An’ it’s Sunday.” 

He bristles, but it’s true that he himself only got up an hour ago, and that he spent 45 minutes of that time doing his morning routine. He growls for half a second and shakes his head. 

“At least I’m actually conscious. You look like a zombie.”

Banri strides forward and grabs Hyodo by the face, stirring his attention up as their gazes meet. Yellow eyes strike at Banri’s soul, making his pulse race with anticipation, and he hopes that fervor is reflected back in blue. Hyodo’s eyes remind him of lemon slices. 

“Last time I checked, you were the one who got cast as a zombie.” 

“Well, you—!”

“No fighting, no fighting!!”

Taichi bursts through them, swinging his arms around in circles, and Banri steps back. His rather poetic thoughts get cut off, along with his anticipation for a fight. 

After that, he finds himself wrapped up in another day’s comedy routine full of loud personalities (especially when Omi steps in, and then Sakyo to lecture them). Things settle down quickly enough for dinner prep to start early.

The dorms are quiet, and quiet is boring, and boring does not bode well when combined with Settsu Banri’s thrill-seeking tendencies. 

II. On Sex - Autumn Edition

Later that same day, a certain conversation occurs.

“So you read in a magazine that most people have swiped their V-card before university, and now you’re worried about bein’ a late bloomer, and that’s why you thought it’d be a good idea bringin’ this up at the dinner table?”

Banri could not exude a greater sense of pity right now. 

Sat around the dinner table is Autumn Troupe minus Azami (who, in a timely coincidence, decided to spend the night at his friend’s house, and thank god for that). The kid would probably start screaming and quit the company if he had to endure a talk like this.

Taichi looks embarrassed—but determined—clutching a teen magazine in his grip. He stands up, too, like he’s giving a formal presentation about it, and Banri wonders if he can die from secondhand embarrassment. The absolute cringe of it all.

Judging by the aura of happiness and content radiating off of Hyodo, that lucky bastard hasn’t absorbed any of the awkward conversation that’s lead to this point. How is it possible to be so focused on a goddamn Mont Blanc? Banri grimaces, watching him stuff his face with all the passion of a man starving in the desert. Yeah, Hyodo’s end of the table is sitting in another world. 

The rest of them, though, are sitting in this uncomfortable world with Taichi and there’s not a goddamn thing they can do about it. 

Sakyo opens and closes his mouth several times, false starts with no idea where to pull a conversation about sex. This is not something he ever wanted to discuss with anyone besides a potential partner, and he was especially unprepared for someone younger coming to him for advice on the matter. 

Banri feels a sense of solidarity with Sakyo for once as he watches him rub circles into his forehead. Imminent forecast: a storm of migraines. 

Taichi looks about ready to continue his speech, unfortunately.

“That’s exactly it! So I wanted to ask you guys what you thought about that, and if I’m a late bloomer does that mean I’ll turn into a wizard, and I also wanted to know if you guys have done it, so I can, like, gauge how I’m doing!”

Sakyo rubs more circles into his forehead. 

“Nanao, what on earth are you going on about? Wizard? What? And that—that’s a very personal question you’re asking, do you realize that?”

“I don’t wanna be a mean virgin wizard when I’m thirty, Sakyo-nii! Let me learn from your mistakes!” 

A glower solidifies on Sakyo, the shadow of which turns Taichi into a near-crying mess of terrified teenager. Banri tries to stifle his laughter at the audacity of Taichi implicating Sakyo as an adult virgin, but given how chaste he acts around the Director, Banri can’t imagine that the guy’s gotten his dick wet before. It’s obvious to every person on the planet (except maybe the Director herself) that Sakyo’s been carrying a torch his whole life. Given how old-fashioned he is, he'd probably view sleeping around as cheating even though they’re not actually together.

Sakyo huffs, pushing up his glasses. “I’m more experienced than the rest of you brats combined.” 

That makes Taichi perk up, rain clouds clearing up in his face to make room for his usual excessive sunshine energy. Banri stifles another laugh as he leans back in his chair. 

“No way. How many girls you been with, geezer? Your hand doesn’t count as experience, y’know.”

“You crude little shit.”

Omi has been watching all their banter with a grin that says he’s both baffled and amused, but he finally cuts in here. “Now, now, guys. Taichi wants advice, so let’s try and be helpful, alright? I think Sakyo-san and I are both spoken for as adults with some experience under our belts. What about you, Banri-kun?”

All gazes land on him. 

Even Hyodo’s paused eating his Mont Blanc to indulge in the gossip. No, well, it looks like he just happened to be done eating it in time for this, but still, the guy doesn’t have to listen. No one’s holding a gun to his head. So Hyodo’s interested in Banri’s experience level, eh?

That sends a little tingle down his spine, and he smirks. A dramatic pause is fitting for right about now as he settles on how to answer Omi’s query. 

“S’not like I’m keepin’ track of the number, but yeah, I’ve fucked around with girls just to see what the fuss is about. Not just vanilla stuff, either. Ropes, toys, you name it, I’ve tried it.”

Of course he has. Before joining Mankai Company, nothing ever caught his attention no matter how far and wide he searched. Sexual deviancy or whatever you’d call it was just one of the downtimes he tried. ‘Course, even that didn’t really stick.

“W-w-wow!! Ban-chan, you’re such an adult!” Taichi’s got the right reaction, heh.

There’s something like concern hidden under the shadow of Sakyo’s glasses, which is confusing, and that same concern is even more visible on Omi’s face. What the fuck? They should be in awe of him, not looking like parents about to give him a talking-to. 

He throws out a “What?” when neither of them rise to say anything. Instead of responding, Omi gives Sakyo an invisible look that mystifies Banri further. 

“I’m not lyin’, here, if that’s what you’re thinking—”

“You ever been with a guy?” Hyodo asks. 

Hey, what? 

Banri’s jaw drops, without any instruction from his conscious brain on the matter. Did Hyodo just ask him if he’s ever—with a guy? Why would he ask that? Does he think Banri would do that with a guy? Has Banri given some indication that he would? Why would Hyodo ask that? Why does Hyodo want to know if he’s ever been with a guy before? Hyodo’s interested in his past experience? Specifically with men? 

Hey, what the fuck? 

And that bastard doesn’t even have the backbone to keep looking him in the eye while waiting for an answer. No, instead, he stands up with his plate and trots over to the kitchen to start washing off the dessert debris. As casual as ever. 

“No,” is what falls out of his mouth after a half second more. He accidentally told the truth. Not that he was going to say otherwise, because being with a guy isn’t anywhere on his to-do list, and there’s nothing wrong with being with a guy, but it’s not something Banri does. 

Is it something Hyodo does? Is that why he asked? 

“Wait, really?” Taichi asks, interrupting Banri’s spiralling identity crisis. “I thought you’d have tried everything. Like, everything-everything!”

“Even I’ve been with a man,” Sakyo says with a nod and a smirk. “So you haven’t done everything. Of course not. There’s a lot to be found in the world of the night. It’s not something you can conquer by your age.” 

Omi adds on, “It’s the same with me. Although it’s been... a pretty long time.” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh through his words. Whatever concern was laced into his eyebrows just a second ago has disappeared in full, making way for amusement, and Banri’s not sure which part of that is more irritating. 

He tries not to hyperfocus on the sound of dishes being washed in the sink while he thinks of a witty one-liner that will shut up the older troupe members. Taichi is still just sitting there in awe. Banri has to dry swallow before opening his mouth again. 

“Try not to come out all at once, geez. Did I miss a memo? Since when are you all like that?”

“Like that,” Omi repeats after him with some distaste. Not just distaste, but disappointment. It gets to him more than the familiar glower that appears on Sakyo’s face. Being yelled at, that’s whatever, but Omi always manages to make him feel like shit in the kindest way possible. 

“I didn’t mean it, like, in a bad way, okay?”

Taichi glances at him with a nervous expression. “I always thought you were…”

“Thought I was what?”

“I thought you were definitely bi?” 

Silence falls over the table again. Silence, except for Hyodo’s oblivious work in the kitchen. 

How long does it take to wash some fucking dishes? The sound of running water in the background is ringing in Banri’s ears. It’s too distracting. He’s forcing himself not to look over at Hyodo, not that it matters. Hyodo doesn’t matter to him. Hyodo is completely irrelevant to this conversation, thank you very much. 

“Well, you thought wrong,” comes his milquetoast reply. There’s much less bite to his words than he was trying to convey. Something got lost in the communication process somewhere in his brain synapses. 

“Okay!” Taichi raises both his hands, palm-up, like he’s signalling for peace. He looks sheepish. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to assume! Really!”

“You can’t—you can’t judge me for not havin’ been with—it’s not like you have, either.”

Taichi is not wearing a shirt with a particularly high neckline, but he pulls at his collar anyway like he’s starring in a comedic street act, all exaggerated motion. Yikes! 

“I, well, that is, not exactly, but uh!” It looks like he’s trying to communicate what he can’t say out loud through some very animated charades. Banri isn’t getting any of it, until he does.

“…No fuckin’ way.”

“I-I’m sorry, Ban-chan, I really am!” Taichi clasps his hands together and bows his head. 

“There’s nothing you need to be sorry for,” Omi says. 

“Why the hell were you askin’ us for advice, then? Seems like you’ve got everything all figured out. Meeting adjourned, thanks for comin’, let’s never talk about this shit again!”

Who the hell has Taichi been fooling around with? No, actually, he doesn’t want to know, ever. He smacks his hands against the dinner table and pushes himself to standing. It echoes for a few seconds. 

_Oh,_ a far-away part of him notes, the sink isn’t running anymore. It really is silent now. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Omi asks.

No, he is not okay, thank you very much. Well, no, yeah, he’s fine, this is fine, why wouldn’t he be okay? Banri just found out that every member of Autumn Troupe likes getting their ass played with on the weekends, that’s all, why should he give a fuck? Omi’s kindly demeanor looks like condescension when reflected through Banri’s stare. Sakyo’s eyes are boring a hole into his skin, too. 

Taichi is looking around in a panic as though a volcano is going to explode any minute now. Biting his lip, making aimless gestures, letting half-formed gibberish fall from his mouth. 

“I’m sorry for bringing this up, I didn’t wanna make any of you uncomfortable.” It’s generous of Taichi to say ‘anyone’ in that sentence, when it’s clear that Banri is the only one here having trouble talking about being gay. 

Hyodo is staring at him again, which is unsettling, and the fact that he’s unsettled unsettles him further, because he shouldn’t be intimidated by that heady glare. Banri’s better than that. Usually. 

Right now, he’s not better than that, because he stares at a blank point on the wall and decides he’s better off preparing for tomorrow’s university acting workshop than finishing dinner. Sorry, Omi. But he’s not that sorry. 

“Dude, I’m totally comfortable. I dunno why you’re making a big deal outta this.”

“Says the one making a big deal out of this,” mutters Sakyo.

“Oh my god, shut up, it’s fine! I’m literally fine with it. I’m just shocked that you’d let anyone—”

Omi clears his throat before Banri can let himself say some stupid shit. 

“Maybe it’d be better if we brought this back to the original topic, that is, advice. Did you have anything specific in mind, Taichi-kun?” 

It’s a good choice on Omi’s part to take the attention off of Banri, so he can finally take a breath and sit back down while pretending he didn’t look like a jackass for a hot minute there. Taichi seems relieved and comfortable enough to ask Omi and Sakyo about, like, condom etiquette or whatever the fuck. Banri tunes that all out, and he’s back to normal again. 

Except Hyodo is still fucking looking at him.

And with Hyodo still looking at him, Banri can’t calm down all the way, so instead he jerks his chin toward the bastard and glares right back.

“Fuck’re you lookin’ at?”

Hyodo directs his ugly stare back down at the table. 

“Wasn’t lookin.”

“Uh, yeah, you were, I can fucking see you, dumbass. Anyway, why the hell did you ask me that, anyway?”

“Ask what.”

“You asked me if I’ve been with a guy before. What’s up with that?”

Banri really does not care but he also definitely needs to know. He feigns nonchalance. 

Hyodo shrugs, glancing back up. 

“Curiosity, I guess.”

It has taken Banri until this moment to process the expression on Hyodo’s face, because some part of his brain must have been blocking out the details of it for his own safety and well-being. He’s too used to being glared at, too used to seeing his reflection in those eyes as a twisted image of vitriol. 

There’s a faint powdering of warmth spread across Hyodo’s face, just faint enough that Banri could’ve written it off as the guy’s afterglow from eating sweets. 

But the tips of Hyodo’s ears are practically exuding steam. They’re pink all the way through. People don’t normally blush all the way to their ears when they’re eating dessert, unless Hyodo is just that much of a fucking weirdo with a kink for sugar. 

The chagrin on that bastard’s face is fascinating and Banri is definitely staring like a fool by this point, mouth left ajar. 

Before he can prod at that, Hyodo flees the premises like they weren’t even talking. That’s—that’s fucking rude, godammit! It’s not fair for him to just up and go back to their room like that. 

Banri stands up to stalk after him, but Sakyo grabs him by the arm.

“Where are you going? Finish your plate.”

And the look on that old geezer’s face says he doesn’t have the option of saying he lost his appetite. No leaving food behind, it’s a waste of funds and Omi’s perfectly good cooking, yadda yadda. 

What’s frustrating is that the memory of Hyodo’s weird face is already fading from the front of his mind, no matter how much he tries to grab onto it. It was so different from usual, like the guy was actually emoting for once in a context outside of acting or dessert. 

His brain is turning gears trying to process this. So, putting it all together: Hyodo was blushing after asking Banri if he’d ever been with a guy, and this was in the context of a conversation about sexual conquest. 

Hyodo was asking Banri if he’d ever fucked a guy before. 

He tries to wrap his mind around that information while scraping the remains off his plate. 

It should be a gross thing to think about. Rather than being disgusted, though, he feels jittery for the rest of dinner, too aware of his heart racing. Maybe Hyodo spread some illness to him. Yeah. That’s gotta be it.

Without any conscious input on his part, the image of Hyodo on his knees, pulling his muscled asscheeks apart for some faceless man, back arched like a bowstring, flits into his mind’s eye, and he finishes his dinner as soon as possible to get the fuck out of there. 

III. Smoldering First Night

Juza can’t run away from Settsu forever.

Still, Settsu isn’t the kind of person who would wanna ask about their dinner interaction, because he probably already knows, and if he knows, he won’t wanna confirm it. Settsu already hates his guts. If it gets any worse, it’s gonna start interfering with play practice again, so this is Juza’s fault for not hiding his feelings better. This ain’t the kind of thing that’ll get fixed if Sakyo-san handcuffs them together for the umpteenth time. 

Feelings… It’s not like Juza even knows what his own feelings are, either, but he knows enough to say they’re unwanted. 

To his relief (mixed with some more complicated emotions), Settsu doesn’t pursue the line of questioning. He stays on edge for the first few days afterward, but with the return of the other troupes from various outings, they don’t have many chances to be alone. 

Even at night, when it’s just Juza sat at his desk looking up complex kanji for homework, there’s silence from the other end of the room. Settsu does his own work or plays games with headphones on, and Juza always goes to sleep first.

The silence is weirder, at this point. Is this the level of hatred above being a constant pain in the ass? Has Juza unlocked a new side of Settsu’s shitty personality? 

He used to have the habit of running his hands through Juza’s hair, messing up the hairstyle while complaining about the texture. Crunchy from too much gel and not enough hair care, apparently. 

Settsu is a handsy guy and never seemed to feel satisfied letting Juza exist nearby for more than five minutes without grabbing him by the shoulders to adjust his blocking, elbowing past him in the middle of the hallway, kicking him lightly under the table... The list goes on. 

The lack of these touchy-feely interactions is what makes him realize they were there to begin with. That bit of distance should be a welcome respite.

...

It’s lonely.

Juza pulls himself out of that stupor before he can linger too much on stuff that’ll make him feel like crap. There’s no point in lamenting it; this is how things always turn out for a guy like him so he shouldn’t be surprised. 

He clicks his pen a few times, idle, and reads the instructions on the assignment in front of him a few more times. It doesn’t stick. 

There’s a blue-tinted light blanketed across the room, and his own squinting makes him realize that more time has passed than he thought. It’s gotta be pretty late. Yeah, he’s not gonna get any more work done tonight. 

Clicking his tongue, Juza puts away his work and starts getting ready to sleep. 

A tentative glance toward Settsu’s side of the room reveals that tonight is the same as every other night from the past week. Headphones on, dead to the world. Whatever. It’s fine. 

Juza stands in front of his loft bed ladder, sleep already pulling at his consciousness, and stretches both arms up over his head with a yawn. 

Crash!

Hm? He turns toward Settsu—source of the noise—and blinks in surprise. Why is Settsu sprawled out on the floor like he fell out of his desk chair?

Probably because he fell out of his desk chair. 

Juza raises an eyebrow at his roommate. 

“I’m fine, that was on purpose!”

“...Didn’t ask.”

“Shut the fuck up. I could see your eyes asking.”

“You fell on purpose?”

The look on Settsu’s face is familiar and endearing, torn between a rock and a hard place and his own dumb pride. Even Juza can spot a lie that obvious. A few disheveled locks of Settsu’s hair have found life of their own, falling over his ears and face, making him look even dumber. 

Juza covers his mouth and tries not to laugh. 

“I-I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Yeah, you— **what**.”

He stares at Settsu, who stares back like he’s terrified of the words that just left his own mouth. Juza tries to backtrack the conversation in his head to figure out how they could’ve possibly made such a stark left turn into bizarro territory. There’s no line of thought he can possibly reason this out with. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Are you half-asleep?”

Settsu bites his lip, then nearly trips over himself trying to stand up and level their positions. A clear panic in his shaking hands and wavering expression. Juza would be embarrassed, too, to say something like that in front of his most hated rival. Jesus fuck. 

But far from being embarrassed, Settsu clenches his fists like he’s ready to throw down. He marches toward Juza until they’re almost nose-to-nose, close enough that he could count the bastard’s eyelashes. 

“What, are you too much of a wimp to take a man’s cock up your ass? You started this.”

There are too many questions to ask here, and Juza very much doubts that he will be getting satisfying answers. He doesn’t step back from Settsu, if only because he’s slack-jawed from shock.

“Fuck you, I didn’t start jack shit. And speak for yourself.”

He should not be entertaining this line of challenge, but Settsu always has a way of getting under his skin and making him do stupid shit. The push and pull of electric energy surrounding them is addictive. 

They’re close enough that he can feel warm breath huffing over his skin, and that certainly makes him feel some kind of way. Settsu smells like citrus shampoo. It’s too pleasant a scent for someone who makes Juza’s heart pound against his ribcage. 

“Who do you think I am? I can take anything and come out on top. You’d come as soon as my hands touched your asshole.”

“Bet?”

This is really fucking weird. Juza getting caught up in the flow of things, heart pounding, wondering when this game of chicken breaks. Settsu being a vulgar piece of shit isn’t all that new, but this is really taking things up a notch. 

Hands snatch up his collar, pulling them even closer. The only thing Juza is allowed to look at right now is Settsu’s heated gaze. Everything else is out of focus, left behind in the darkness of Room 104. His breath catches in his throat at Settsu’s next challenge. 

“You’re never gonna get it up again without my touch.”

“Prove it.”

He takes in a gulp of breath when Settsu releases his lapels, and he’s glad he did because the breath of air keeps him from getting faint when he feels a cold hand sliding under his waistband. 

Okay, so they’re taking this even farther than he thought. His roommate’s always been dumber than he pretends to be. 

Juza pushes him away. 

“W-what?” A tinge of insecurity paints Settsu’s voice as that cold hand slips back out. He can still feel the phantom press of it against his skin. 

“I’m not doing this.”

“Why not?” Whiny, almost. 

Juza scowls and tries not to roll his eyes. Settsu seems to take the hint that he’s being serious, and they find themselves standing apart once again. The air pushes down on his shoulders like the weight of a stage spotlight. 

“Fights are one thing. Acting is one thing. But I’m not gonna let myself be so stupid as to fuck you just to prove that I can. This is—this is different, you’re not supposed to do shit like this so lightly.”

And he doesn't want it to happen like this. 

“Who says I’m taking this lightly?”

“You don’t wanna fuck me, Settsu.”

It brings him back to their first few interactions, the moment he turned around and saw Settsu stepping through the door of Mankai Company, Matsukawa pushing the guy along until they were forced to audition beside each other. 

_You don’t even LIKE theatre. Go home._

“You really need to get your ears checked, don’t you? Fuckin’ hell. I—you really wanna make me say it again?”

Juza blinks in surprise. 

“…Oh. Yeah, I guess you did say you wanna fuck me.”

“Can you not fucking repeat it?” Settsu hisses. 

It doesn’t really make sense to him. Like, at all. Settsu’s been avoiding him for a week, and now all of a sudden he wants to have sex? Is he just that pent up and desperate? He doesn’t know how to reconcile this new side to Settsu’s character with the Settsu that he’s known the last few years.

“Are you gonna say something or just stand there like a jackass?” There’s an abashed growl underpinning that statement, and Settsu tries to settle his weight between two feet, uneasy. 

The outline of his body is blurry in the night’s low light, but his look is so ingrained in Juza’s mind at this point that he can fill in the gaps himself. Dumb leopard print jacket, jeans with a price tag greater than Juza’s monthly salary, soft flaxen hair, and a face that’s too pretty for its own good.

And there’s something about the air of night that makes decisions like this easier, some truths easier to reveal. There’s something intimate and unreal about it. 

He looks cute when he’s trying to hide his vulnerability, Juza thinks.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I said okay. You need your ears checked?”

To be honest, it’s not like Juza knows where to start with something like this. Girls have always stayed away from him, and guys have never approached him for anything other than a physical fight. He’s barely gotten used to the casual hugs and high fives that the other troupe members ask of him occasionally. 

And even this is completely different from that familial, platonic touch. 

Settsu’s bound to have more experience in this than he does. The idea makes Juza a little frustrated, makes him settle into a state of mind more familiar. He’ll never let Settsu win. 

“This is your last chance to back out,” he mutters. 

“I should be sayin’ that to you.” 

Drawing together like planets circling each other, in danger of crashing into each other. This isn’t something Juza can undo after the fact. 

They step into each other’s space one, two, three, like the beginning of a dance, until he can no longer restrain himself from putting his hands on Settsu. 

He was right, that flaxen hair is soft—confirmation as it slides between his fingers. Their bodies press against each other, warm, as he keeps one hand in Settsu’s hair and the other wrapped around to the small of his back. If they were anyone else, they might call it a hug. 

“Mmmnnh,” and a quiet “fuck,” like Settsu’s resigning himself to enjoying this. 

Heat swirls in Juza’s gut, spiralling downward, and it’s vaguely uncomfortable if only because he still isn’t ready to reckon with the feelings attached to his dick. At the same time, it’s a pleasant sensation that he wants more of and that he knows Settsu will give him. Maybe that’s the scariest thing about this, the idea of someone wanting him back. 

Even if it’s just a physical want. 

It takes a few seconds more for Juza to realize that the rapid heartbeat beating against his skin belongs to the other person in the room. Even with experience, if Settsu is as nervous as he is, at least the playing ground is equal. 

And then Settsu grinds his hips forward and Juza stops thinking at all. 

“Holy shit,” escapes him in one go, drawn deep from the back of his throat. 

“If you come this fast, I’ll actually kill you.” There’s no bite to those words, and Settsu is just as compromised judging by the hardness in his pants. 

“Fuck you.”

“Not if I fuck you first.”

The cheeky smile paired with Settsu’s comeback shouldn’t look so endearing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it only took me like 2 weeks to deliver on part two!!!! thats pretty good i say!! thank you for waiting i hope you enjoy the juban content, i really really like these dumb guys

IV. One Night Buddies

Every masturbation fantasy Banri’s had about this daikon bastard for the last several days amounts to nothing in comparison to the real, physical feeling of another person’s body rubbing against his. It’s so different from any other time he’s done this. 

And yeah, it’s because—jesus fuckin’ christ he still can’t believe this is happening—Hyodo’s special. Even admitting that in the recesses of his own mind is grueling and he refuses to give it any more thought or detail. 

They end up grinding on each other for a hot second, panting and swearing, but that can’t last forever. It’s a buffer for the both of them to get their heads on straight and figure out where to go, what to do, what to say. Getting comfortable with touching each other’s bodies.

“Bed,” Hyodo grunts. It’s an instruction that Banri’s happy to go with, and he scrambles up the ladder to his roommate’s loft bed. 

There’s a brief confrontation as they try to settle into some kind of position. 

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Banri insists, trying to shove Juza down onto his back. The guy isn’t relenting to that pressure, though, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t trust you with my asshole. You’re gonna rip it open and then practice is gonna suck.”

“What kind of monster do you think I am?! I’m gonna do this better than you, anyway, and I’m the one with lube and experience. If anything, you’re the one who’d do it wrong.” 

They’re both stubborn. The tightness in Banri’s pants is impatient, so he gives Hyodo another decisive shove and manages to climb on top of him. 

“Oi!”

“Regardless of whoever’s gettin’ fucked here, we’re stayin’ like this.”

Looking down at Hyodo from this angle is intoxicating and fills him with a sense of superiority that goes straight to his dick. He presses both hands down on his partner’s shoulders, keeping him steady, and leans down over him. 

Then, with an expression like a smug feline, he grinds his ass over Hyodo’s cock. Fuck, that thing is big, probably bigger than Banri’s. Goddamn piece of shit. That seems to convince Hyodo of the position’s benefits, seeing as his dick throbs in response. 

“F-fine, alright. ‘Least I can see your face this way.” 

“That’s your concern? Whatever. Get your pants off ‘fore I rip ‘em off of you.” 

He ignores the warmth in his face and focuses on the warmth in his dick. They’re not teenagers; they don’t need to be grinding on each other through layers of clothing.

With some shuffling, they’re unclothed. 

(It’s weird just taking his pants off but not his shirt, Hyodo argues, makes him feel like a pervert. Banri resists responding with a quip about how they’re too far gone to be worried about being perverts.)

Skin-to-skin touch is a little overwhelming. He runs his hands over Hyodo’s pecs, down his torso to his abs, feeling out the muscles. There’s some lingering scars from street fights, but not many. 

“Do people come at you with weapons, a lotta the time?” The mental image of Hyodo standin’ alone, fists at the ready, in the center of a bunch of incoming delinquents is too easy to construct. 

“Sometimes. S’not honorable, but shitheads who start shit rarely are.”

Banri frowns at that, and his heart feels like it’s been pinched. 

“You’re the only guy who came at me one-on-one.” 

Oh. 

The reverence and respect in Hyodo’s voice makes his heart race against his will. It shouldn’t be there and shouldn’t make him feel like anything. He is definitely imagining this… whatever this is. 

There’s no way for him to respond here without morphing into a ball of shame over his past self, so he runs his hand lower, slowing just above Hyodo’s very visible hardon. When Hyodo shivers and turns his face, Banri pauses. 

“Ya got somethin’ to say?”

He might be a jerk to Hyodo most of the time, but he’s not evil, so he’s not going to force anything. His pride will shrivel up and die if they break the act at this point, but he’ll survive. Probably. 

“S’nothin. Just…”

“Come on, spit it out.”

“This is really fuckin’ weird.”

Okay, yeah, that’s an understatement. But what does Hyodo want him to do about it being weird? It’s not like they can go back in time and change their meeting and relationship to be something more amiable, and he doesn’t think this is exactly the time for unpacking the baggage that they do have, either. 

And Banri is still painfully hard and really wants something to be done about that. 

“So what then. You’re givin’ up?” His voice betrays a little too much of himself, his whining fear of being rejected after all. 

“No. I’ve got an idea.”

“You’re thinkin’ too much about this, dumbass. I’ve got lube under my pillow, so we can get to business—”

Hyodo strokes his thumb over the back of Banri’s hand and his thought process stutters. It’s a small thing, but the tenderness of that touch shocks him. 

“This is gonna help me stop thinkin’. Shut up for once.”

“Hey—!”

“Luciano.”

Three years after their first play, and that name still brings back a surge of clumsy emotions. Catching onto Hyodo’s idea is instantaneous. 

There’s some Oscar Wilde quote that comes to Banri’s mind: “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

He wrote it off in high school as pretentious bullshit, and maybe it still is, but he feels like he kinda gets it now. 

“Lansky.”

Hyodo’s eyes meet his again, blazing with a desire that makes Banri a little choked up, but he refuses to bend under that gaze. It’s exhilarating to be wanted. It feels like crouching behind a table while gunfire blasts against your eardrums.

“Luciano, do you trust me?” 

“With my life.”

And that’s something only he, as Luciano, could say with no hesitation. The buddy pair has each other’s backs. Banri’s envious. 

“What about with your asshole?”

“Oh, you fucking—yeah, fine, I do.”

Hyodo’s idea wasn’t so bad after all. The veneer of plausible deniability is just enough for Banri to let his walls down, even knowing that these characters were based off their real life personalities. Luciano and Lansky got their happy ending, but Banri and Hyodo are still in the thick of it. 

“Y’said lube’s under your pillow?”

Hyodo’s a good enough guy that he doesn’t ask Banri why he has lube in such short reach, or why he would need it in the first place if he was supposedly a hard top. 

“Yeah. Be quick about it.”

He is not quick about it. Hyodo likes torturing him, probably. Scratch that about him being a good guy, he’s the fucking devil incarnate; his hands are slow and clumsy and the bottle of lube does not get open fast enough for his liking. 

“You suck at this.”

All he gets in response is a glare, which is pretty nice in itself, if he’s being honest. He’s always had a thing for the intensity of Hyodo’s golden eyes. 

Once the lube is cranked open, Hyodo squeezes a dollop of it into his palm and makes a face. 

“It’s cold.”

“No fucking shit. You gonna comment on every little thing? Because if you are, we’re gonna be here ‘til sunrise and I’m gonna be soft by then.”

That is a lie; Banri is not in danger of going soft anytime soon. Even without Hyodo’s hands on him, the visuals are pretty nice material to work into his already established fantasies. The guy would look nice in shibari, red ropes accentuating the full-bodied quality of his muscles… Or with a gag in his mouth and toy in his ass… His face is ugly, of course, but it’s the kind of ugly that Banri doesn’t mind staring at and admiring for a long while. Not everyone can be blessed with natural good looks like his own. 

His ear gets tugged. 

“Ow! The fuck?”

“You had a dumb look on your face like you were thinkin’ about somethin’ else. Stay with me.” Hyodo chuckles. “I dunno how you get hired as a mercenary with an attention span like that.”

Right, they were roleplaying. Banri reluctantly thanks Hyodo in his head for bringing him back into character. This should be easy for him, Mr. Super Ultra Easy Mode, but existing around this guy always turns the difficulty up. 

“God, will you just fuck me alrea—”

The world turns upside down, and he gasps because there’s one calloused hand pulling his hips up and one thick finger pressing at his hole, where no man has ever been before.

“Like this?”

It takes Banri a second to respond, eyes fluttering closed from the new sensation. He bites his lip and tries not to look like he’s enjoying this as much as he is. Can’t give the bastard the satisfaction. 

But the look on Hyodo’s face is sincere and open, like he’s worried about hurting him. 

“What’re you feelin’? I won’t know unless you tell me.” 

Every inch of his body is tingling with anticipation, electricity thrumming through his bloodstream. Hyodo would never look at him like that on a normal day. (And whose fault is that?) 

Lansky has a special connection with him. They’re willing to die for each other, of course he’d be concerned about the safety of Luciano’s backdoor. 

He tosses one arm over his face to hide, and mutters back: “S’fine. Keep going.”

“You sure?”

“I said it’s fine, didn’t I?”

It’s a lot more than fine, actually, because Hyodo curls his finger in there, warm and wet and he feels so full, Hyodo’s fingers are bigger than his own, he can’t even think straight and they’ve barely started. 

“Mmn… You’re so… fucking slow.”

The anticipation is too much to bear at this point as he peers down at Hyodo’s leaking cock. It’s bright red, and he wants to know how it feels when it’s actually in him. 

“...Dewey said foreplay is important.” 

Completely serious, deadpan delivery there. It’s a reference to Omi, he knows that, but the idea of Lansky asking a corrupt cop about sex tips while getting blackmailed is absurd. 

“Don’t t-talk about other people when you’re fingerin’ me, jackass. When did you guys even, mmh, talk about that?”

“You were there.”

Oh, during Taichi’s little sex-ed interview. He wasn’t really paying attention to the details after a certain point. Hyodo was listening, apparently. 

But in what situation would Luciano and Lansky both be in a conversation with Dewey about foreplay? This premise is getting stretched as far as Hyodo’s stretching his hole right now. 

“Whatever. I’m skippin’ a few acts here.”

Banri spreads his knees apart and pulls himself off Hyodo’s fingers, kneeling just over his lower body. With a grin equal parts cheeky and erotic, he positions Hyodo’s dick underneath and plunges down. 

It’s bigger than he gauged by looking, and it gets a little bigger inside of him, throbbing restlessly. Fuck, that's hot. 

One or two fingers wasn’t enough prep for the size of Hyodo’s dick. He will not admit this out loud. His eyes involuntarily roll back and he groans, overwhelmed by the stimulation and sudden expansion of his inner workings. 

Hyodo shakes his head. He’s affected, too, there’s no pretending. “You fox-faced… idiot, hah.”

Tears sting at the corners of his eyes as he gasps once more, rocking back and forth on Hyodo’s dick and trying to settle into the act. A glance down reveals the flush spread across Hyodo’s face, eyes squeezed shut, similar to the face that haunted him at the dinner table from before. He wants to memorize it. Take a picture, even. 

“You’re the idiot… who decided to stick with me,” he says. 

Instead of a verbal comeback, Hyodo moves his hips. It’s probably unintentional, just repositioning to be more comfortable, but Banri feels like he’s getting split in half and he yells loud enough for his voice to echo off the walls. 

“Fuck—mmph—!” 

Hyodo clamps his hand over Banri’s mouth to muffle the exclamation, and he gets pissed at how being manhandled that way sends fireworks shooting up his skin. It’s a reminder of the near-invincible strength tucked away in his partner’s annoyingly hot body. His urge to fight harmonizes all too well with his current arousal. 

“Keep it down,” Hyodo growls. 

Banri bites his hand like a feral cat and he curses. The cock inside of him twitches. Hyodo’s making a face like he just found out something about himself that he really didn’t want to know. 

His head is still spinning from overstimulation, but one of Banri’s basic instincts is being obnoxious, so he easily throws his head back and laughs so hard that he sounds like a honking duck. 

“Ahahaha! Oh my god, pfft, you—you into that?” 

“...Y’got a problem with that?”

The irritated look on Hyodo’s face is a familiar one, and that familiarity shoots something like fondness into Banri’s heart, despite himself. A melting pot of sensations has taken over his body, from the painful but pleasant cock splitting him open to the goosebumps-inducing blanket of affection draped over his heart. 

His breath keeps catching in his throat, making it harder to speak, but he manages. Settsu Banri is an amazing actor and that badge of honor ain’t gonna be taken away even if he’s getting pounded within an inch of his life. 

“C-count yourself lucky to have a sweet partner—ah, like me.” 

He grins lopsided from ear to ear, so much that his cheeks ache, with all the smug demeanor of an italian mobster who’s pickpocketed Death and gotten away with it. If Hyodo likes getting bitten, that’s a win/win situation. 

“Y’feel… pretty sweet,” Hyodo says. “You’re doin’ really good.”

His low mumble, admitted with sincerity, turns Banri’s face pink. 

Praise, flattery, and compliments aren’t rare for a guy so talented. Girls flock to him at school and crowds flock to him during street acts. 

But praise from Hyodo comes at the price of dedication and hard work and commitment, which are qualities that don’t come quite as naturally. It’s not praise meant to stroke his ego or express envy; rather, it’s an acknowledgment that he’s bettered himself. 

That is to say, the fire in Banri’s heart explodes high enough to scorch the ceiling because Hyodo’s opinion holds a weight that doesn’t compare to anything else in his life. Even if it’s just about his ability to take dick. 

“Say that again,” please. He’s not lost himself to the point of begging, but damn if he isn’t close. 

Hyodo grabs his hips with his big stupid hands and thrusts in deep, groaning, breathing heavy, and those golden eyes meet his just to slur out, “Youre—amazin’—”, and Banri pulls him in by the shoulders and bites his collarbone, gnawing so it leaves a mark that’ll last beyond this night. Hyodo’s gruff curses mean it probably hurt, but it probably hurt good.

His smell is curling around them, sweet and heavy like a bakery, intoxicating him with pleasure. 

Banri’s heart is screaming at him to kiss the guy. Like it’d be the most natural thing in the world. He could probably get away with it. But another part of Banri is tugging him just as furious in the other direction, the dumb and prideful part of him that can’t give Hyodo the upper hand. 

He really wants to kiss Hyodo. But he can’t. But he really wants to kiss Hyodo. But he _can’t._

The fact that this desire lives inside him is incriminating enough—he can’t make it real. 

Instead, he bites the base of his neck and relishes in the low growl that follows. 

Hyodo grabs his hand, interlocks their fingers, and squeezes, the way lovers do. It’s a little late for Banri to realize that they’ve set up Luciano and Lansky as lovers, but it still catches him off guard. He sends a silent apology Tsuzuru’s way for lewding his characters. 

“Ahh—you’re so—so fuckin’ good—” This might be the deepest pitch he’s ever heard Hyodo speak, and damn if it isn’t going straight to his dick. 

Whether through sweat or exertion or both, the guy’s hairstyle is coming undone and his bangs have fallen over his frustratingly adorable face. It’s legitimately unfair for a bastard like Hyodo to be that sexy and that cute at the same time. What the fuck.

“You’re, hah… not usually so nice to me,” Banri says. “If you call out the wrong name an’ I find out you were thinkin’ of someone else, I’ll… mmh, cut off your balls. Or worse, I’ll take all your money and run.” 

“You wouldn’ do that.” He squeezes Banri’s hand again as he says that, all sweet and trusting, even while keeping up a lazy pace pounding into him. It’s difficult to catch a breath to respond.

“Says—who?”

“Says me.” 

“Well, you’re… dumb as rocks.” Not his best comeback, he’ll admit, but his brain is a little busy focusing on other things like getting railed so hard that he can’t walk tomorrow. 

“You should know by now—that I’m—that I’m crazy for you. …Fox-faced idiot.”

He’s not Hyodo saying that to Banri. He’s Lansky saying that to Luciano, he reminds himself. All the same, hearing those words makes his heart rate skyrocket like a fool. Call it method acting.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but he doesn’t really mean it. 

Time slows in the vibrant night, because Hyodo raises their interlocked fingers to kiss along Banri’s knuckles, another thing that only lovers do. He shivers through his whole body. 

“I know you better than anyone. An’ I know—” 

—his other hand gingerly wraps around Banri’s cock, gives it a pull so loving like he’s afraid to hurt him—

“—you’ve worked damn hard to get here.”

It’s not fair. 

Did Banri ever have a chance of winning? His mind is leaving him, thoughts swirling to no end, as he finds sentence fragments slipping off his tongue. 

“Fuck you… fuck… you fucking…”

Lightheaded, heat coursing through his bloodstream, throbbing where his body is connected with Hyodo’s. He doesn’t realize that he’s coming until it’s already starting to pass, like accidentally falling asleep and only realizing as you wake up. 

It’s just a physiological reaction, though, it doesn’t mean anything. The air feels easier to breathe now. It’s easier to think and come back to his usual self. 

Hyodo weakly thrusts once, twice, thrice more inside of him before pulling out and staining the bedsheets with cum. The room is silent but for their heavy breathing. 

His mind clears. The rollercoaster’s past its peak. He’s looking down now, and all that’s left is Banri’s gut dropping a hundred feet as it comes crashing down. 

VI. LONER

They don’t talk about it immediately. 

Settsu complains about feeling sticky, and about hygiene, so they peel themselves off each other and get to work erasing the evidence. 

Juza offers to help clean up. Aftercare is important, that’s another thing he’s learned. Settsu looks at him like he would rather choke on dirt, so he rescinds the offer. 

They don’t talk about it after fifteen minutes pass. 

Juza’s wiped his bedsheets down as best he can, and tossed them into the dorm’s shared laundry. It’s kind of gross and he feels a little guilty about it, but there’s not really another option to take. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, probably. 

When he trudges back into their room, Settsu’s toweling his hair, having just come back from the showers. 

“How’s your ass?” he asks, to be polite. 

“You don’t have a subtle bone in your body, do you?” Settsu doesn’t offer an answer beyond that, but if he’s well enough to be snarky, he’s well enough to sit and stand on his own. 

Juza feels like he’s missing something here, but he has no idea what the puzzle piece in question is. He’s not good at stuff like this. Settsu knows that. 

They never officially called off the scene, even, so he stands on the precipice of two versions of himself. One wants to walk over and hug Settsu from behind, tuck his chin into the guy’s shoulder, lazy and domestic and loving. One wants to turn tail, walk to the cafe downtown, and devour the extra large strawberry and chocolate honey toast dessert special.

He runs a hand through his hair. Gotta gel it back up if he’s gonna step outside. 

Settsu’s still being awfully quiet, and Juza doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t know what he wants to do about it. Being ignored for the past week has been tiresome, and he doesn’t want things to go back to that. But he doesn’t want things to go back to what they were before that, either, even if some part of him found Settsu’s annoying qualities cute. 

So what does he want?

He decides the honey toast is easier to get for the moment. And when he comes back from the cafe, they can talk about it. Maybe Settsu just needs some time alone to figure out his own shit. It sounds like a half-decent plan. 

They do not talk about it when he comes back from eating dessert. Settsu is in the room next door playing video games with Itaru. 

They do not talk about it when they walk down the hallway to dinner together. Omi made meat pies, and they are delicious. 

They do not talk about it when it’s just them again, isolated together in Room 104, and Juza has trouble falling asleep.

A few days pass, and they keep not talking about it, and people start to notice. 

The first person to ask is Sakyo-san, who pulls him aside after practice one morning and stares him down for an interrogation. 

“What happened between you and Settsu.”

Not, did something happen, but what happened. 

Juza avoids his eyes, frowning. 

“...”

“Tell me. If you two aren’t grown enough to deal with this shit on your own, you force me to step in. I’ve still got the handcuffs, you know.”

Yeah, he’s not keen on going through that again, thanks. 

“I dunno how to explain it.”

“Is it so complicated? Something clearly happened between you two, so just tell me what.”

“...’Kay.”

“Then?”

“We had sex.”

Sakyo blinks, visibly goes through thirteen stages of grief, heaves out a great sigh, and then calls for the Director. 

Maybe admitting it so forthright wasn’t the best course of action, but he’s never been great at choosing his words. People tend to misunderstand him, so he’s gotten in the habit of getting straight to the point. It hasn’t helped things as much as he thought it would. 

It feels like he’s been called to the principal’s office, or like he’s waiting in the lobby while the adults decide how to deal with the scary delinquent kid. Sakyo and the Director ain’t like that, but the memory is difficult to shake. 

They whisper in the corner of the practice room for a few minutes while Juza murmurs lines to himself. Memorization is hard. 

Director comes up to him with a smile that reeks of sympathy. She always kinda smells nice, too, like flowers.

“Juza-kun… Sakyo told me that you and Banri-kun slept together.”

“Yeah.”

She looks frustrated at his one-word response. He rubs the back of his neck, awkward, and glances over at Sakyo-san who’s standing by the door like a bouncer. 

“I’m just going to come straight out with this, okay? Did he… force you to do anything?”

The question is so jarring that he snaps to attention and stands a little taller. 

“No! No. Settsu’s an asshole, but he’s not selfish like that. I… He…”

It was definitely a consensual thing from both ends. Maybe Settsu regrets it in hindsight, though, and that’s why they haven’t talked about it?

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t think he would, either, I know Banri-kun’s a good guy. I just needed to make sure.”

“Yeah. He’s…”

He’s what? Juza doesn’t know what he wants to say. 

Director nods and gives him another placating smile. 

“Listen. I don’t wanna pry into your relationship any more than you want me to, but I just want you to know that you can talk to me anytime. I’ll always listen.”

The offer is nice, and he appreciates it, but that doesn’t make putting his feelings into words any easier. Director’s already taken so much off his shoulders over the years. He’s an adult. He should be able to deal with this on his own.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Sakyo shakes his head in the corner of his vision, Director purses her lips while straining a smile, and Juza has the distinct feeling that he’s disappointed them. 

“And I want you to know that this doesn’t change how I see you at all. It’s okay if you like men, Juza-kun.”

It’s kind of funny how that hasn’t even crossed his mind. Director says it with her whole heart, so he nods in thanks. 

Does he like men? Is Settsu just an exception? 

Wait, does he like Settsu? 

The conversation leaves him with several questions to ponder, and Director and Sakyo-san insist that he talk to Settsu to get their relationship sorted out. It’s easier said than done, even though Juza has plenty of chances to start up a conversation. They’re roommates, for god's sake, they’re alone together often enough that Settsu used to complain about it daily. 

It’s difficult to breach the silent wall that’s formed between them. If Settsu got angry or made a comment about how Juza was so bad at sex that he got turned off for the rest of his life, then he could definitely find it in himself to snap back. They still bicker, Settsu still gets on his ass for leaving laundry out, but he doesn’t go out of his way to find something to be mad about. If Juza’s standing in the middle of the hallway, he’ll step around him and keep going. 

It comes to the point where Juza wonders if he’s the only one this up-in-arms about their night together, and Settsu’s just… what? 

Settsu’s bored of him? 

The idea shakes him to the core, stinging all the more for how realistic a possibility it is. 

Shit, maybe he does like Settsu if the idea of rejection makes his gut sink like an anchor. There’s gotta be something wrong with him. 

A day passes, and the second person to open the topic is Itaru, weirdly enough. The pair of them don’t talk much, even though he’s pretty sure Itaru’s a nice dude, but Juza doesn’t really play games and they don’t have much of a common ground. 

Still, when they get paired together for a street act and step outside, Itaru turns to him with a serious face instead of taking out his phone. 

“So, Banri totally no-homo’ed you, yeah?”

“Huh?”

“It’s like he reversed your Social Link. After going so far as to catch such an important flag, too, what a dumbass.” 

“I don’t get what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, just take some advice from me, kk? If you wanna get his Good Ending, you gotta totally overpower him with love-love until he can’t deny himself anymore.”

“…Love-love…”

“Exactly. We both know Banri’s got a singular brain cell, and with idiots like that, brute force is the best way to unlock their heart. If you play Diabolik Lovers, you’ll basically get the gist of it.”

“What’s Dia… The thing you said.”

“Here.” Itaru hands him a video game case with anime art of vampire boys on the cover. “Do you have a Switch?”

Juza doesn’t know that is, so he shakes his head.

“It’s no biggie, you can borrow mine. Don’t break it though or I’ll cry.”

“Okay…?” 

Itaru pats him on the shoulder with a mysterious smile. More importantly, the ensuing street act goes well.

VII. Overwhelmed

So, it turns out that having sex with your worst enemy does not dispel the crazy attraction you feel toward said enemy, but actually multiplies it tenfold. Being Settsu Banri is suffering. 

It is legitimately shameful how easily his libido ramps up just by existing near Hyodo, to the point where he can barely hide it anymore. His temporary solution is spending less time around the guy, but they’re troupemates, and more than that, roommates, so it’s not a great solution. 

This isn’t something he can talk about with anyone, either. 

“Hey, I have this problem where I start getting horny if I see Hyodo’s well-built back or his stupid golden eyes. In fact, I’m so painfully attracted to him that it’s making me depressed not being able to pick a fight with him. Normal, right?” 

Banri is careful in emptying Room 104’s trash can of used tissues every night. If Hyodo notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

That’s another factor that’s driving him insane—they fucked and Hyodo hasn’t said a word about it since. It is infuriating that Banri’s the only one freaked out about this. 

He’s not sure how many days have passed since D-Day, but it’s been at least a week. And now he’s staring at Hyodo from across the room as he tries to boot up what looks exactly like Itaru’s Nintendo Switch. 

Is it too forward to ask what game he’s playing? Hyodo’s never played games before. Maybe if it’s a co-op game, he can show off how much better he is at playing it, and then Banri will have an excuse to talk to him while trying not to pop a boner. 

Fuck, he’s turned into such a pathetic mess that it’s funny. If Hyodo knew how much power he had over Banri, he’d never let him live it down. And that is exactly why he can never talk about the shit that goes through his head. 

“Oi.”

He startles, spinning around in his desk chair to come face to face with Hyodo. Didn’t even hear the guy walking over. Their eyes meet, and Banri has the most horrifying thought of wondering how nice it’d be to kiss him. 

“What?” 

“I don’t get this game. Explain it to me.”

“Hahh? It’s a fucking visual novel, dude, what is there to explain?” 

He snatches the console from Hyodo’s hands (their fingers brush against each other, he refuses to pay attention to that longer than necessary) and looks at the screen proclaiming DIABOLIK LOVERS ~HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL~.

“What the hell’re you playin’ an otome game for, anyway?” 

Banri fiddles with the settings, sets the voices just a bit louder than the music, adjusts the auto-play speed, and starts a new run. It’s basically autopilot for him. 

“Itaru-san told me to play it.” 

Hyodo’s glowering at him, and the awareness of his gaze makes Banri tense. It shouldn’t be hot and he shouldn’t find that ugly mug attractive. 

_We had sex like a week ago, you know. You were balls deep in my asshole. Does that even mean anything to you?_

He hands the game back to Hyodo and crosses his arms, grimacing. 

“Have fun,” said dryly. 

They part ways, with Hyodo shuffling back to his side of the room, and Banri puts his face down on his desk and tries not to groan out loud at the stupidity of the situation. Great. You let him go, big guy, good work. Amazing conversation. A+ rank. 

Why does Hyodo have to make his life so hard?

…

Banri yawns, eyes fluttering open as his consciousness slides back into him like sand into an hourglass. Didn’t even realize that he fell asleep. How long has it been? 

The room is dark, curtains drawn, and he figures that Hyodo must’ve left him there. He turns around and finds out that isn’t the case. One spot of light is coming from the Switch, still held in Hyodo’s brawny hands. 

_A thick finger curls into him, and he feels so full, and his head is spinning—_

He stops thinking about Hyodo’s hands. 

Hyodo looks over his shoulder and notices his roommate’s woken up. 

And then he smirks. 

“Mornin’, princess.”

For a hot second, Banri wonders if he’s having a lucid dream, because there is no way in hell that Hyodo just said those words out loud. There’s the phantom sensation of calloused fingers brushing against his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and he shivers. 

“The fuck did you just say to me?” He might be groggy from his impromptu nap, but he’s still conscious enough to snipe back at Hyodo. It might as well be programmed into his basic human needs: eat, sleep, act, make fun of Hyodo. 

Hyodo slinks out of his chair—where he was playing an otome game, Banri reminds himself in the hopes that it will make him seem less attractive—and shuffles over with both hands in his pockets. There’s a casual, confident air about him, like he’s not even trying to appear as cool as he is. It’s something Banri is all too familiar with; it’s what he sees in the mirror every day. 

Seeing confidence like that on Hyodo is indescribable. It’s day one again, looking up from the concrete at Hyodo’s stoic face after getting his ass beat, with that ugly mug framed by the night sky. He doesn’t even have to try, and it’s not fucking fair, and yes, Banri’s aware that he’s the pot calling the kettle black. 

His skin is burning all over, pulled from the flickering fire in his gut. He swallows. 

Hyodo has the audacity to lean over where Banri’s sitting, walling him in with both arms. They’re so close that Banri has to consciously keep himself from leaning back, especially with the knowledge that he’d only have an inch before hitting his chair. He’s not going to be intimidated by a little thing like this. 

“Y’heard me.”

“Don’t call me princess, you freak.” 

“I think you like it, though, don’t you?”

That one sends him for a loop and a half, no, a whole amusement park’s worth of loops. It’s completely out of character for Hyodo, isn’t it? Because that’s flirting, and Hyodo wouldn’t fucking flirt with him. Or at least, not like this, right? Hyodo’s not some kind of casanova playboy who’d know how to sweep a guy off his feet, and that’s part of his charm, really, not that Banri would know, but like objectively it’s probably a true observation. 

Or maybe Banri’s just misread the guy this whole time. Hyodo drops life-changing revelations of character on him all the time like it’s nothing. 

“W-what the fuck?” he sputters. “What the fuck?” 

“I say somethin’?” Hyodo tilts his head, all cute-like. He fights the urge to punch him so hard that his head’ll go flying off like a Mortal Kombat animation. 

“You know exactly what you said,” Banri snarls, jamming an accusatory finger into Hyodo’s chest. (His pecs are firm—nope, do not think about that.) “Is somethin’ wrong with your head?” 

In the dark of evening like this, the senses are muted, which brings out a greater focus on that which you can actually see. Like the sharpness of his gaze. Like the faint smell of baked goods. Like their body heat emanating onto each other’s skin. Like how Banri’s brief point of contact makes him realize that the only thing separating him from Hyodo’s bare skin is a thin layer of T-shirt, and that brings him to swallow down a dry well of want.

Their faces are so close together and Banri is having difficulty keeping his head on straight. How is he supposed to focus on kicking Hyodo’s ass when he’s distracted by his stupid fucking pretty eyes? 

“S’cute that you’re worried about me, but no, I feel great.” 

“Eat shit and shut your face, I wanna walk this back to you thinkin’ I liked… that. ‘Cause you’re wrong, obviously.”

Banri hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s lying through his teeth. The butterflies in his gut (ugh, what is he, a lovesick schoolgirl?) aren’t settling down, and the blush spreading across his face is betraying him. If he stabs his fingers into Hyodo’s eyes right now and blinds him, he won’t be able to call him out for it. The plan is tempting. 

There’s a second where Hyodo just stares at him, eyebrows knit like he’s thinking through some complex math equation. The guy places one hand on Banri’s shoulder and Banri feels himself melt a little under the pressure of it. He watches Hyodo’s adam’s apple bounce as the guy swallows and squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s preparing himself. 

“Look. If you hate this, just punch me.”

That’s more classically Hyodo. Banri almost smiles.

And then he kisses him.

What? Hey. What? Banri has to grip the seat of his chair to hold himself together. Somewhere in the distance, bells are ringing, transforming it into a scene straight out of a shoujo manga. He resents the fact that his heart is pounding. 

But truly, he’s wanted this for how long, exactly? Since he first thought about Hyodo fucking other men like some kind of whore? Or earlier, even, feelings suppressed under their constant workload for Mankai Company? His passion for theatre and his passion for beating Hyodo are almost synonymous, and now it’s tied to his passion for getting fucked by Hyodo, and boy it’s gonna lead to some unfortunate situations in his near future having those kinds of crossed wires in his head. But that’s a problem for future Banri.

His skin feels too hot all over like every part of his body is screaming to be closer to Hyodo. The part of his brain that would normally push these feelings down is drowning in an ocean of undeniable attraction. 

Banri grabs him by the lapels and pulls him in deeper, propelled forward by the horny-for-Juza-Hyodo brain cells that have been buzzing around his skull for years now. 

Hyodo lets out a low noise, confused, and then succumbs to moaning into Banri’s mouth. The hand on his shoulder tightens its grip. 

Banri pulls back to breathe and exclaims a triumphant “hah!” at the drunken look on his partner’s face, because of course everything is a competition with these fools. If there’s anything that he can flaunt here, it’s his experience. Hyodo just got the best makeout session of his life, thank you very much. 

“I win.”

“…Guess this means you didn’t hate that, then.” He licks his lips, a quick and unconscious motion, but witnessing it makes Banri feel like a puritan schoolgirl who’s never heard about sex before, or worse, Azami. His face burns even more, if that’s possible. 

“You’re…”

_You’re the only one who gets me this fired up. I think you changed my life for the better and I don’t know where I’d have ended up if I didn’t follow you to Mankai Company. You’re the kind of person that makes me want to be a better person so I can match up to you. I might be better at acting but you’re a good guy, someone that leaves an emotional legacy behind on the people you meet. It happened to me, I should know._

“You’re just…”

_I wanna wake up to your ugly mug for the rest of my life._

Now that’s a terrifying thought to have as a proclaimed heterosexual man of 19 years.

“I’m what?”

“You’re stupid. So, so fucking stupid. The most idiotic bumbling fool on this whole planet.”

As far as confessions go, Banri is doing a great job, surely. He forces himself to keep looking Hyodo in the eye even as he tosses himself into the flames.

“I think I like you, though.”

The audience holds its breath with Banri as he waits for the incoming punch to the face. Shocking twist: he does not receive any such painful impact. 

“Me too.”

“…Oi, what? Huh?”

Hyodo is blushing, avoiding eye contact, and it’s infuriatingly cute. Wait, what the hell did he just say? It takes a few seconds for Banri’s brain to catch up and process the response, since it’s so far out from what he expects. 

“Fuck you, no you don’t.”

“Hahh? Don’t go deciding my feelings for me, jackass. Do you think I really go around fucking and kissing anyone who asks?”

Banri restrains himself from saying “no, but fantasizing about it was really good jerkoff material.” He takes in a steadying breath and leans his forehead against Hyodo’s. 

“I’m gonna be fully honest here, man. You need to know what you’re signing up for, ‘cause there’s no take-backsies.”

Hyodo meets his eyes and grunts something affirmative. Banri takes his dumb face in both hands and kisses him again. It’s satisfying to release even one percent of the tension that’s been plaguing him. They lean into each other, warm. Banri can’t help but think some gay shit like they fit against each other perfectly. 

When he pulls back, it’s only just so, because there’s no way that’s the last kiss they’re sharing today. He laughs from disbelief.

“Seriously. You’re so fucking stupid. I’m gonna pounce on your ass at least once a week, do you realize that? And you’re gonna pamper me to hell and back.”

Hyodo blinks. “Just once a week?” 

Yet again, he manages to drop bombs like that without any awareness of the rippling effect on Banri’s life. A chill runs down his spine. 

Then Hyodo’s rough hand slides around his waist, down his back, and squeezes his ass firm. It startles Banri and sends his heart rate skyrocketing. Another part of his body is also starting to skyrocket. 

“—Oi!”

“Yeah? Got an issue?”

When he looks at Hyodo again, there’s a challenging glint in his eyes, all smug and defiant. He wraps his arms around Banri’s shoulders, still leaning over him, and it makes him feel small in a good way, which is some form of violence on Hyodo’s part, surely. 

As his new fuckbuddy—lover—boyfriend?—screw it, they can talk details later, but they’re definitely something official now—corners Banri like a sharp-eyed eagle hunting a fox, little Banri Jr. in his pants shows a great deal of interest. 

“Are we doing this right here, right now?” He laughs. 

Hyodo’s reply comes in the form of another deep kiss and an unfairly gentle hand palming his dick through his jeans. A growl lingers in the back of Hyodo’s throat, like he can’t help but vocalize his lust, and that stokes his fire too. 

“You’re,” he exhales against Hyodo’s open mouth, pliant, “always surprising me with this shit.” 

“S’your fault I’ve turned into this,” Hyodo mutters as he slides his lips down to kiss along Banri’s neck. “So it’s your turn to take responsibility, bastard.”

All the world is gone except for the collective flame in Room 104. And with his partner’s words, Banri starts to wonder if he knows what _he’s_ signing up for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! there were a lot of things that didn't quite make it into the fic that i wanted to share anyway  
> \- juza saying the whole princess line and being aggressive was him copying the otome game, in case that wasn't clear. i was gonna have a bit where he reads something off the back of his hand and banri calls him out on it it was funny  
> \- i wanted to include more body worship and praise kink.... never enough.... its okay though i can just write even more fic of juban fucking to make up for it  
> \- they Do talk about what they are this time, afterward, and become proper boyfriends. i love a happy ending ok  
> \- they fuck like rabbits and izumi ups the ante on her anti-horny mankai agenda
> 
> comment if you liked it! i appreciate the feedback a lot!
> 
> follow me on twit @/duelsafterdark if you want


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